


A Mini-Fic Collection

by authoressConjurer



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternia, Ancestors, Major character death - Freeform, Multi, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Sadstuck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-16
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-02-04 21:01:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1793107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/authoressConjurer/pseuds/authoressConjurer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Probably mostly Alternia ancestors.  Alternate Universes.  One-shots mostly.  Anything more than a two or three parts and it'll probably have it's own work.  Updates whenever I come up with something I think is worth putting up here.   A mix of sad and cute things.  Ratings are subject to change as chapters are updated!  Relationships and characters also being updated as this is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Death--The Disciple (Version 1)

After the Disciple hears news of the last of her family, she runs out of reasons to continue hunting.

She becomes dedicated to her writings, spending night after night crouched over her journals, then the cave walls. Copying everything, with additions or subtractions. Messages that were once hidden for safety's sake become transparent, the trolls they were meant to kept safe now dead, the protection now unnecessary. This is somewhat of a relief, but mostly, an addition to the constant ache.

She eats only when necessary to complete her projects, but only just. When she finishes, she travels backwards through the caves to update them with the necessary revisions, now adding clues to where to find the next piece of the story.

And finally, she makes it back to the first one.

The chain is complete. She has nothing left to do. No more words to write. Nobody else to live for, or to hope for a reunion with.

But she hasn't died yet. So she retraces her steps, walking the path for the third time. Following the story of the Signless' life, of the Dolorosa's and the Psiioniic's, Redglare's, her own. The trolls whose lives they influenced, the large and small changes that they made throughout Alternia.

She grows weaker as she walks, but does not stop to rebuild her strength, to try and extend her life. She does not plan to go beyond the final cave.

She doesn't.


	2. Execution--Darkleer's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There never was a choice, not really.

"Under palest moon and sweetest stars... To  _protect you and yours...  To pity you until your dying nights we_ _swore!_ "

Piercing eyes strike him in a way he hasn't felt since he swore in to this position, something he regrets more than ever.

Meulin, his moirail--no, the Disciple, follower and lover of the Signless, and when did that happen?--had never looked dangerous to him before.  Dangerous in general, to others, yes.  He's seen the animals she hunts, heard vague tales of the times she had had to kill trolls to protect the clade she was traveling with.  But never has her anger been so murderously directed at him.  Never has she looked like she would easily shred him to pieces.

And never, as her shoulders shake and a flood of tears streak from her eyes and she strains against the bonds holding her back, has she ever looked so pitiful.

"Shoot."

The order comes again, and on instinct his bow jumps to his hands.

The look in her eyes becomes a challenge.

He knocks an arrow.  The guards release her and she doesn't even move, just stares at him.

He doesn't want to do this.  Has to.  Can't.

The bow spins without a conscious thought and he doesn't have to aim, the mutant isn't going anywhere, strung up as he is, and the arrow hits home in the last target he was supposed to cull, not the first.

It doesn't take long for the screaming to begin.

Not the mutant's, after that hoarse shout of pain.

But Meulin's, the Disciple's (it still bewilders him that they're the same), and the other two.  Right, there are two others, they had fallen silent to stare at him but all three had called out in wordless shouts of protest when his arrow flew.

And they fall into silent sobs when the mutant speaks.  (Later he will remember and puzzle over every piece of what he's saying.  Now it hardly registers as words.)

It makes him tremble with confusion; conflicted and hurt and angry.

What is it about this off-spectrum traitor that commands such loyalty?  That so completely captures the attention of such powerful trolls?  He doesn't know, not yet, but he can tell by the look in the Highblood's eyes that sparing Meulin was the last choice he'll make as executioner, perhaps ever.  No, that's not quite right; he has another arrow.  Another chance.  If he kills her now he can beg off most of his punishment later.

The thought almost makes him laugh.  Beyond the odd stillness that lingers after the mutant's--no, the Signless'--final word. (Beautiful.  It almost makes his choice easier.)  He still has a choice.

Looking at the Disciple again, she tears her eyes away from the slumped figure on the punishment block to meet his.  Her lips move, just one word at first.

"Please."

Now, it isn't a plead for life.

Their worlds have shrunk; it's just the two of them now.  All beneath the sobbing of the jade and yellowblood, a stream is pouring from her, quiet, hardly a whisper.

"Please please  _pleasepleaseplease--_ " _  
_

Every tired and broken line of her begs for death.

A rough snapping voice yanks him back to Alternia.

"Executor."

His title.  A reminder of the job he swore to do.

He draws his bow again, the slow tension of the mighty weapon aches of the pain in his pumper yet can't compare in the slightest.

Everything is bright and slow and burning.

A bloody and ragged piece of fabric pops out of his sylladex, his arrow hits it as it flies, and pins the Leggings to the ground in front of her, where his arrow has broken the chains that held her wrists close and down.  Everything is silent and still as the fabric flutters to the ground.

Now his own word rings, quiet and piercing in a way nobody expected, not even him, and everything except the exhilarating shard of fear in his pumper wants to sob as he says it. 

"Run."

She stares at him for a long moment, then does.

It was never a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Darkleer and Disciple have been moirails since they were very young, and at some point they decided it would be cute/a good idea to do a swearing ceremony. (Basically pale married.)
> 
> For more info on that sort of thing, check this out! http://authoressconjurer.tumblr.com/post/131722003042/alterniabeforus-worldbuilding


End file.
